My Summer Holidays in Lithuania

When I think of my last summer holidays in Neringa (the Curonian Spit on the East Coast of the Baltic Sea), I always remember the saying that happiness is not the moon: unlike the moon, a lonely circle shining countless miles away, happiness is everywhere and always near. While we, Lithuanians, choose the beaches of tropic islands in the south hemisphere, there is still a lot to enjoy and discover in our home country.

A warm July morning. The sky is grey, promising long awaited rain after a dry period. Me, my friends Vita and Sandra with her mother, a completely female company, are almost ready to go. We place our luggage in the boot (including pots and raw vegetables Sandra’s mother showed thought for as vital for our survival) and get into the car. It starts raining. While weaving along the streets out of the city, we see idle shop-girls standing outside on the corner, catching the falling raindrops…

Ten minutes and we are flying along the highway to the seaport Klaipëda, 320 miles west of our native town Kaunas. The timid raindrops soon become a heavy shower and we start worrying lest the rain should continue all the week; but halfway of our journey, we leave the dark sheet of clouds hanging behind and thrust into sunlit lowlands. The road goes through wide pastures and forests. We spot cattle, flocks of sheep, and goats with their kids frolicking around. Occasionally, we pass by small towns and solitary old wooden houses most probably nearing the age of a hundred and more years. The typical scenes of the old Lithuanian countryside…

It’s about midday. We are in Klaipëda. There is some fuss while we are trying to find the way to the ferries. Luckily, following the instructions of local people and the landmarks not yet forgotten by Sandra’s mother, we reach the coast.

Huge ships crawling on the water, wind blowing into our faces and the yell of the seagulls: we are crossing the Curonian Lagoon. Our eyes are caught by young and handsome ferry-guys as well as the beauty of the Curonian Spit we are approaching to.

The Curonian Spit is a long thin strip of dunes pinned down by hand-planted pines. It begins in the Russian enclave of Kaliningrad (to the south) and stretches along the Lithuanian coast about 80 miles. Untouched sea beaches, small villages and towns big enough offer the essentials of a laid-back holiday: pretty environs, good services and accommodation. Lazing around is a popular pastime here, but it is often intervened by sitting about in cosy cafés, restaurants or gardens nearside the lagoon, enjoying tasty food and a cool drink. Meanwhile cycling routes and some places of interest (such as Memorial Museum of Thomas Mann, Amber Gallery, Lithuanian Sea Museum, Stone Age settlement, etc.) attract the more active and curious visitors. The Curonian Lagoon is ideal for fishing and sailing. Every season, the yacht-clubs of Smiltynë and Nida organise regatta events attended by foreign guests as well.

Our final destination – Pervalka, a small village where local people add money to their family budgets selling fish and providing rooms for holiday-makers. With its pretty houses, colourful gardens, children playgrounds, a small shop and the coastline of the Curonian Lagoon to stroll along during warm summer evenings, the place is well-liked by families and those who want to escape from hustle and bustle of the city.

Our car stops in front of the house where we are going to stay for 10 days. Welcomed by friendly hosts (and their curious 5-year son who will later involve us into childish preoccupations such as going to swings, building sand castles, and exploring various things on the ground) we take our stuff out of the car and enter the house. As we settle in our rooms, the host brings in smoked fish – the catch of the other day. The holidays begin. We pass the time enjoying the sun and the cool water of the sea at the beach, exploring pine-wood paths, cycling, visiting local cafés or strolling along the peaceful streets. Sightseeing is out of question.

First we visit the east side of the spit. Following a wooden path through a forested area we come to the sand hills, here and there covered with rare flora. The sand and the blue of the sky… We almost hear the sounds of Arabic music in the wind. No wonder why the Curonian Spit is often called the Lithuanian Sahara.

The path goes up and up. It’s hot, and we get really tired when we finally reach the top of the dune. Beautiful coasts below, the expanse of the Curonian Lagoon and the continental coastline in the distance: a view worth taking a photo of opens before our eyes. Well, at least taking a photo. We as well as other tourists (we hear some of them talking French, some Latvian, some Italian, and some German) stand still amazed at the sight. Words are too banal to express the feeling, so we remain silent.

According to the legend, long time ago there lived a girl on the coast, a real giant, called Neringa. She was very kind-hearted and used to help local people: she would wade into the sea during the storms and bring back the ships that had lost. Once the god of tempests became so wrathful that it seemed there would be no end for the storms. Pitying the people, the giant girl would scoop sand into her apron, bring it to the sea and pour it into the water until she formed a spit which separated a lagoon from the sea. Feeling grateful for the girl’s heroic deed, people named the spit Neringa…

The most eventful day is the day before our leaving. We get to the car and head for Juodkrantë, one of the small towns located on the eastern shore of the spit. Our first stop is the colony of the grey herons and cormorants. It is one of the biggest and oldest colonies in Lithuania. We read the information on the stand. In 2002, they counted 1981 cormorants and 525 grey herons. We gaze above for a while. The hordes of black birds and bare top branches of the trees almost remind the garden of the Adams family.

Next, we go straight to the town. In the evening, there has to be a concert featuring Lithuanian pop stars. The town is full of people. It takes some time to find a free parking lot with a free niche for our car. Having found it, we allow ourselves cheat three young guys who are also trying to park their car next to us. "Do you know that you have to pay for parking here?", says Sandra’s mother in an authoritative voice. "No", answers the guy at the steering wheel surprised, "Where do we have to pay?". "Over there", says Sandra, pointing to the bar where people are sitting and drinking beer al fresco. "Hey, you are joking", laughs the guy with an expression of happy relief on his face. Losing and then rediscovering is the principle of happiness, I conclude to myself philosophically…

We have some time before the concert begins, so we decide to explore the surroundings. First of all, the Hill of Witches, a unique collection of wooden figures collected on a forested hill. Witches and devils coming from the Lithuanian legends and folk tales are especially abundant here. At the bottom of the hill, we meet an acquaintance of Sandra’s mother, a chic woman working as a lecturer at a university, a character as interesting as the wooden creatures settled in the park (while we see the sculptures and enjoy the swing and climbing facilities, she does not forget to powder her "shining" nose from time to time and fears lest anyone of her students should catch her smoking and eating chips while we are having a small picnic in the park. Ah, complicated is the life of lecturers and other stars…).

Hill of Witches is reminiscent of the Midsummer celebrations from ancient times. The hill was used to roll the burning pitch barrels down to the lagoon on this night. The sculpture park was set up in 1979 according to the project developed by the sculptor S. Sarapovas and architect A. Nasvytis. 49 artists carved 65 sculptures, which embodied the heroes and characters of Lithuanian fairy-tales. Some places in the park, especially the one called the Gates of the Hell on the edge of a scarp surrounded by huge firs and wallowing in shadows even in daytime make you feel like Frodo in the Old Forest.

Then we drop into an art gallery (no entry charge!) where various pieces of art made of glass are displayed.

Before the concert, we get lost (not literally) among the stalls of craftsmen and sales people selling kitchen utensils made of wood, robes of linen, amber jewellery and other things in traditional Lithuanian style. Beautiful. Finally, we join the crowd in front of the stage. The concert is to begin in a few minutes…

The rest of my memories of the holidays in Neringa are quite sketchy. The old cemetery with tombs dating back to the 19th century… A jolly old man repeating his story of life for the twentieth time to his adequately patient fellow drinkers in the yard in front of our house… A lonely artist on the beach, painting the sea… Our daily farewells to the setting sun… All these moments have blended into a most pleasant memory of my holidays in Lithuania.

Please click here to find out more about The Curonian Spit.